


Journey's End

by nikkithedead



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Asexual Character, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, the city of light, the dead zone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:18:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5788420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkithedead/pseuds/nikkithedead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A few things, in case you're curious:</p><p>-This is a multi-chapter WIP about Murphy on his way to the City of Light with Jaha and Co<br/>-Events will not play out the same way they did in canon<br/>-An OC will be introduced in the next chapter who will be a main character<br/>-The main pairing is M/M<br/>-Trigger Warnings for future chapters include: mentions of PAST non-con/dub-con, discussion of prostitution, mentions of PAST violence and torture, mentions of PAST character death.<br/>-Ultimately I want this story to be hopeful and optimistic, and for the characters to learn and grow.<br/>-Although there will be OCs, there will also be familiar characters from the show (but not other members of the 100)<br/>-NO CHARACTER DEATH</p><p>Thanks again and I hope you continue to read!</p></blockquote>





	1. Prologue

"W _hatever walked there,  
__walked alone._ "  
—Shirley Jackson, _The Haunting of Hill House_

The journey was doomed from the start. Murphy knew that, but had gone anyways. It wasn't as if he wasn't doomed on his own anyhow. Just like Mbege... just like Finn. There was only one way things ended on the ground, and that was with someone else's knife in a vital place. Murphy knew that, and had come to accept it long ago. It wasn't that he thought he was some kind of tragic hero in a grand story about his life and death—he used to have some kind of delusions like that, but no longer. No, he was pretty sure now that whatever the story was, it wasn't about him. He was a side character, a footnote. A convenient antagonist when needed, someone for everyone to point to and blame when things went wrong. He was the fall guy, the patsy... and more than that, he was expendable. That had been made clear to him on more than one occasion.

Did he resent it? Maybe. But he accepted it, too. It was the way it was.

Murphy was doomed, sure. Always had been. Hell, it was likely he'd been meant to die all those years ago when he'd caught the damned flu. He'd survived that, at the expense of his fathers life and his mothers sanity, so now he was just marking time.

The flu hadn't killed him, nor had the rope around his neck hung by an angry mob. He'd survived that, survived the Grounders and all of their torture. He'd survived Raven, whom he knew would have had him dead twice over now. Survived when so many others had died, so many who deserved to live so much more than he did. Hadn't Wells deserved to live? Hadn't Sterling? Why were they rotting in the ground, while he continued to breathe?

Jaha would have said it meant something. Meant that Murphy was destined for some... _thing_. Something great, likely. Important.

Murphy didn't have to ask to know that Jaha thought he was the main character of the story. And not the tragic kind either. The kind that triumphs... conquers. He'd survived too, countless should-have-been deaths, just like Murphy. Only Jaha thought he'd survived for a reason. Was certain of it, Murphy knew.

He wasn't so sure. It didn't feel like he'd survived for any kind of reason or purpose. For so long, the only thing that had kept him going was the desire—no, the _hunger—_ for revenge. It was what had kept him sane while the Grounders had tortured him, peeling his flesh and slicing him in the places that would cause the most pain, but do the least damage to anything he needed to live. He'd endured days of torture, starvation and sleep deprivation subsisting with only a single thought in his mind: payback. Not for the Grounders who tortured him, not for Clarke who had banished him. It was all of _their_ faces he saw in his mind every night, every one who'd strung him up and let him dangle like a worm on a hook... all of their faces, but one more clearly than the others.

Bellamy. His leader. His _friend._ Bellamy who'd kicked the crate out from under his feet, allowed him to kick and struggle and _die..._ Bellamy, just giving the crowd what they wanted.

In a strange, distant way he could understand why the others had done it. Myles, Connor... He wasn't delusional, he knew how he'd treated them all, they way he'd acted and the abuse they'd suffered at his hands. Yeah, he got it. They'd still had to die, but he understood. They'd taken something from him, and something as small and insignificant as empathy wasn't going to stop him from taking it back.

Bellamy was different. He'd never done a thing to Bellamy. He'd followed him, listened to him and carried out his orders. He'd respected Bellamy in a way he'd respected few people in his life. Admired him, even. How could he not? Bellamy was strong, handsome and charismatic. Everything Murphy knew he wasn't, but could not help but wish to be anyways.

The admiration was not mutual, Murphy knew. But he'd thought the respect was. He'd thought Bellamy trusted him, believed in him... valued him.

He'd thought wrong. That had become more than clear as he'd dropped through the air, felt the noose tighten around his neck and cut of his air supply. As he'd dangled there, legs kicking out desperately beneath him. As he'd waited to die.

Killing the others had brought him a sense of satisfaction, and at one point he would have gone after every single person who'd been a part of that mob. Every pair of hands that held him, each set of eyes that watched them string him up and every silent mouth that had said not a word to stop it. He would have choked the life from every single one them, watching their eyes bug and feeling their bodies struggle and flail beneath him. And when their eyes finally went dead as the last breath left their bodies, he would have smiled.

Once, he would have smiled.

But no matter how much satisfaction he thought could have been gained by killing the others, it was nothing compared to the thirst he'd felt for Bellamy. That was what had truly kept him alive, allowed him to withstand every torture and degradation, every day of starvation and pain. The thought that one day he would get back to their camp and when he did, Bellamy would suffer.

It had seemed so important, so _vitally_ important that Bellamy suffer as he had. That he know what it was like to suffocate. That he be helpless and alone and scared, just like him.

It was strange to realize that he no longer felt that way. Bellamy was alive and well, not suffering and surrounded by his friends back at Camp Jaha. And Murphy did not care. Felt nothing at all in fact. No longer did the need for revenge gnaw at his insides, churning his stomach and pulling at his heart. He couldn't see the faces of those who'd hung him, and if he'd come across any of them now he didn't think he'd lift a finger to hurt them.

What had changed, he didn't know. He just knew that whatever had driven him to kill Connor and Myles... it was gone now. And in its place was emptiness.

Perhaps it was Finn who had changed him. Finn with the crazed look in his eyes, gunning down fleeing Grounders in a blind rage. Finn, tied to a post and gutted by the girl he loved.

Maybe it had scared him, to see how easy it was to slip over the edge like that. Maybe he just realized that if he'd kept going the way he was, Finn's fate would soon be his. And despite all his talk of being doomed, and accepting his fate... was the truth that deep down, he didn't want to die after all?

Murphy wasn't sure that was it. To die would be one matter. That he could accept. But if he continued the way he'd been going, it would not be Finn's fate that greeted him at the end. At the end, Clarke had been there to kiss Finn and hold him as she stuck the knife into his belly. He had died in the embrace of the person he loved. Who would be there to hold Murphy as he died? No one loved him, he knew that.

No, Finn's fate would never be his. Instead, his fate would be to die alone and unloved.

And that was what frightened him most of all.

 


	2. The Deal

Eleven other people had come with Jaha on his "mission." Most of them were older, adult-looking people. There were only two that appeared to be somewhere around Murphy's age. One was a tall guy with sandy blond hair, and the other was much shorter, wore a grey beanie and seemed to be intent on keeping his eyes on his shoes as they walked. Murphy didn't know either of them, although the taller one looked slightly familiar. He didn't think he knew him from the Ark, but likely had seen him around Camp before they'd left. The shorter one he didn't think he'd ever laid eyes on before.

The first day they spent hiking through the woods, with the immediate destination being somewhere Jaha called "the Deadzone." Murphy remarked that it sounded like party, and that he personally could not wait to get there. Truthfully, he wasn't being as sarcastic as he sounded. While anywhere called the Deadzone did _not_ actually sound like a party to him, he was anxious to get out of the forest. Bad things had happened to him in forests.

They stopped as dusk approached, and set up camp for the night. Jaha began pairing people off and giving them orders to hunt for food, or set up the tents. Murphy was paired with the short kid who stared at shoes, who apparently was named "Mouse." Their job was too find kindling for the fire.

The walked through the woods slowly, searching for fallen branches and easily snapped twigs. Murphy couldn't help looking up at every noise, eyes roaming over the surrounding trees in search of approaching grounders. It wasn't safe, to be out in the woods like this all split up. He should have said something, warned the others about the risks. Sure, back at camp they had a shaky alliance with the grounders, but out here he wouldn't trust any of them to honour it.

"Are you alright?"

Murphy jumped slightly, and gritted his teeth, embarrassed. He must look like an idiot. "Yeah, fine," He grunted, not looking towards the other boy.

"Are you sure? You seem kind of jumpy..." Mouse sounded more wary than concerned.

Murphy turned and scowled at him. "I'm just looking out for grounders," He said.

Mouse raised an eyebrow. "I thought they weren't our enemies anymore,"

Murphy couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Right, that'll last..." He muttered. "And what makes you think every single grounder knows that, anyways? You think the Commander sent out a memo? Doubtful,"

A concerned expression grew on Mouse's face. He looked around nervously. "You think they'd attack us?"

"I know they would," Murphy said. He walked off, and heard Mouse coming quickly after him. He smiled slightly. Part of him felt bad, for passing his own paranoia on to someone else. But only part of him.

They walked in silence for a little while longer, and Murphy's agitation began to grow. The longer they stayed out, the more their chances of being skewered seemed to rise. "So what kind of a name is Mouse, anyways?" Murphy asked, trying to take his mind off his worries.

Mouse paused, in the middle of snapping a long, thin branch in half. "It's a nickname," He said shortly, then snapped the branch with a loud _crack._ Murphy tried not to think about how he'd just announced their location to anyone listening.

"Why?" Murphy asked, turning around and picking some sticks up off the ground. "Eat a lot of cheese?"

The question was rhetorical; cheese hadn't been an easy ration to come by back on the Ark, and somehow Mouse didn't strike him as someone who came from a family that could afford that kind of thing.

Mouse shrugged. "I don't know," He said. He sniffed slightly, and his nose twitched. "Just what people call me."

Murphy looked at him for a moment, and decided he got it; Mouse was short and scrawny, had a red twitchy nose and was just generally undeniably mouse-like. The grey beanie he wore just added to the effect. In fact, the only part of him that didn't remind Murphy of a mouse was his eyes, which were wide and round, instead of dark and beady.

"The Chancellor said your name was... John, right?" Mouse asked. He hesitated strangely over his name, as if it was unpleasant on his tongue.

"Yeah, but call me Murphy," Murphy said. "Everyone does," Mouse nodded slightly, and though it may have been his imagination, Murphy thought he looked slightly relieved. Obviously this kid had some issues of his own. "And you know he's not the Chancellor anymore, right? Not that he'd correct you himself..."

"Oh... yeah, I guess," Mouse walked ahead of him, still looking down at the ground.

"What made you decide to leave camp?" Murphy asked. "You don't have any friends or family back there?" He snorted. "Or are they what you're trying to get away from?"

Mouse shook his head. "It's just me," He said quietly. Murphy waited for him to elaborate, but nothing else followed. Murphy sighed slightly. Conversing with Mouse was not proving to be the engaging distraction he'd hoped for. "We should go back," Mouse said. Murphy raised his eyebrows. "The suns getting low, we have enough sticks... we should head back."

"Alright," He said, reasonably eager to be back with the others. Safety in numbers and whatever.

As they walked back, Mouse continued to stare at his shoes. Murphy watched him for a little, and wondered how the hell he didn't walk into a tree.

"So what you're deal, anyways?"

Mouse looked up, a blank expression on his face. "Huh?"

"Your deal," Murphy repeated. He wasn't sure what he expected Mouse to say, but something about the kid was rubbing him the wrong way. He was too small and twitchy, too quiet. It was unnerving. "Why are you so..." He shrugged. "Weird?"

Mouse's eyes narrowed, apparently insulted. "What's _your_ deal?" He said, injecting more feeling into his voice than Murphy had heard so far.

"I don't have a deal," Murphy said.

Mouse snorted. "Right, sure." He said. Suddenly, a frightened look came over his face, and he looked around. "Wait, did you hear that?" He asked, a quiver in his voice. Murphy looked around, feeling something cool settle in his stomach. "I think it might be grounders...!"

"What?" Murphy asked, feeling his throat dry up. What the hell did he do? He had no weapons with him, no way to defend himself. All he had was a bundle of sticks, and he seriously doubted he be able to do much damage with some twigs.

The look on Mouse's face turned from horror to amusement, and slowly Murphy realized he'd been fucking with him. "So, the deal with you and grounders is...?"

Murphy gritted his teeth. He mulled over the possibility of murdering Mouse, strangling the life out of him or beating him to death with a nearby log. But then showing up back at camp without him would look suspicious, and he doubted Jaha would approve when he saw Mouse's mangled corpse...

Murphy took a deep breath, and strode past Mouse. "If you ever pull something like that again, I will fucking kill you," He said. Mouse snorted slightly. "Let's go,"

* * *

At night they sat around the fire, while half of them slept and the others kept watch. Due to the lack of tents, everyone had to share with someone. Much to Murphy's irritation, Jaha told them that they'd be staying with the people he'd already paired them up with, which meant Mouse was his new bunk buddy.

When it was his turn to rest, Murphy had an impossible time falling asleep. Not just because the ground was hard and the air was hot, or because he was still in the woods surrounded by potential grounders. There was all of that, and in addition to it, Mouse turned out to be an extremely restless sleeper.

The tent was small, and the boy sleeping next to him was inches away as he tossed and turned, mumbling to himself and throwing his arms out, as if trying to stop some invisible attacker. Murphy considered suffocating him a few times, but again decided better of it. He was supposed to be turning over a new leaf, after all. One where he didn't suffocate people. Or, at the very least, suffocated less people.

" _John—no, stop, John—"_

Murphy sat up slightly, discerning his own name amongst Mouse's mumblings.

" _John, please—no—"_

Murphy furrowed his brow, wondering if Mouse was actually awake, and somehow aware that Murphy was lying there considering his murder. Mouse flipped from his stomach onto his back, brow furrowed and face twisted into his grimace. Apparently he was still asleep, and dreaming about Murphy.

Murphy nudged the guys shoulder. "Hey, cheese-breath, wake up," He whispered. Mouse winced, but continued to sleep. Murphy shook his harder. "I said wake up—"

Suddenly Mouse's eyes sprang open and he bolted upright, fist coming up and smacking Murphy right in his lip. Pain rocketed around Murphy jaw and he cried out, tasting blood. "What the fuck—!"

"Murphy? What—oh, man..." Mouse said, staring at Murphy with wide eyes. "Did I get you?"

"No, I just sometimes bleed spontaneously from my mouth!" Murphy snapped. "Yeah, you friggin' got me,"

"Well... I'm sorry," He said, stiffly, running his hand over his shortly cropped hair. Without his beanie on, Murphy saw that he had big, round ears which stuck out on either side of his head. No wonder he was called Mouse.

Murphy glared at him. "Why were you saying my name?" He asked.

"Huh?"

"My name," Murphy repeated. "You were saying it in your sleep. Why?"

Mouse furrowed his brow. "I was saying Murphy?"

"You were saying John,"

A funny look came over Mouse's face. "Oh," He said, looking away. "That's... it was a different John," He said quietly. "Someone I used to know... back on the Ark."

That made sense. John was a fairly common name back on the Ark. Murphy had known at least six other John's, not including Mbege. It was why he typically went by his last name. "Right," Murphy said. "Sounds like he was a good friend,"

Mouse looked back up sharply. "What else did I say?" He asked, sounding worried. "What did you hear?"

Murphy shrugged. "I don't know, nothing," He said. He touched his lip, which was throbbing, although the bleeding seemed to have stopped. "Hell of a right hook you got,"

Mouse looked at him, jaw clenched. "You're sure you didn't hear anything?" Murphy shrugged again. "Then why'd you say that?"

"I don't know, I guess because you looked like you were trying to fight someone off," Murphy. He lay back down, and closed his eyes. "And you kept mumbling _no,_ "

Mouse took in a deep breath. "And that's all?"

"Yeah," Murphy said. "That's all,"

Mouse lay back down. "Good,"

Murphy stared at him for a moment, and decided that whatever this kids deal was, he didn't want to know.

**Author's Note:**

> A few things, in case you're curious:
> 
> -This is a multi-chapter WIP about Murphy on his way to the City of Light with Jaha and Co  
> -Events will not play out the same way they did in canon  
> -An OC will be introduced in the next chapter who will be a main character  
> -The main pairing is M/M  
> -Trigger Warnings for future chapters include: mentions of PAST non-con/dub-con, discussion of prostitution, mentions of PAST violence and torture, mentions of PAST character death.  
> -Ultimately I want this story to be hopeful and optimistic, and for the characters to learn and grow.  
> -Although there will be OCs, there will also be familiar characters from the show (but not other members of the 100)  
> -NO CHARACTER DEATH
> 
> Thanks again and I hope you continue to read!


End file.
